The adventures of tiny Crablor by Aprilertuile

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An instrument

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They took a week to figure out a sort of rhythm with Maglor being his current size and form, living in a place that was very clearly not made for it.

That morning, when Elrond woke up, Maglor was gone from his apartment. Elrond didn’t worry; no one in Imladris would hurt him. Probably.

He went to the kitchen, to arrange for breakfast and see if the cooks had seen Maglor. And there he found the head cook looking at an ill-at-ease Maglor.

Oh yes, the elf had been at Sirion when… Oh that was so awkward!

“If you change your mind and become a danger, believe me when I say I have a recipe that calls for crab meat with your name on it.”

Maglor raised his hands in surrender and nodded, glad for any kind of somewhat peaceful resolution. Elrond cleared his throat to signal his presence, and raised an eyebrow as they both turned toward him.

“Do I want to know?”

“We were just clarifying a couple of points, my lord. Are you here for breakfast?”

Elrond eyed Maglor who just nodded, looking unbothered, and he sighed but nodded.

“For me and for Maglor, unless you already ate?”

“Breakfast for two then. Fish for you, prince Maglor?”

“That’d be lovely, thank you.”

The cook nodded and promised to send a tray to Elrond’s office, and Elrond took Maglor on his shoulder and left. He had an office to get to.

“Your people are more welcoming than I thought they’d be. I’m… Quite sure your cook wasn’t lying when he said he was at Sirion and yet…”

“Sirion was destroyed 5000 years ago or so. We’re all evolving here. We’re in the valley because we chose, together, to strive toward healing and forgiveness. In the valley, there are people from Sirion, people from Eregion, people who had been your loyal followers, and just… people or various origin who choose to join us for any reason at some point. We couldn’t have stayed all together if we kept living off of grudges and hatred for events long past. Those who couldn’t see past ancient mistakes have long left the valley.”

“That’s nice. Nelyo didn’t think it would ever happen after our deeds.”

“It’s only in my home. I’m quite sure that Galadriel would have words with you, if she knew.”

“Knowing her, she will know sooner or later and yes, she will have things to say.”

“Later is very fine by me.” Elrond commented simply.

Maglor nodded. Later was fine with him too. That cousin of his has always been sort of terrifying when she wanted to.

Elrond was reading a border patrol report for Maglor when the door opened on Lindir who was carrying a breakfast tray.

Since when did Lindir work for the kitchen?

The minstrel sat down with them without even asking, which was far from his normal behaviour, unless he was so focused on a project that he forgot the rest.

“My lord Maglor, I imagine you have had no instrument to play in quite a while.”

Elrond chuckled softly and was ignored by both minstrels. Of course. Lindir did have a project then.

“Indeed. Alas, I can’t see things changing anytime soon.”

“Why not? Imladris has all the necessary elements for you to build the instrument of your choice.”

Lindir looked determined, and Elrond nodded when Maglor looked at him. He’d have to make his own instrument from scratch of course, strings included, but…

Lindir looked somewhat nervous for a moment, blushing slightly, looking neither Elrond nor Maglor in the eyes as he fiddled with something small in his hands.

“I… Actually, I tried… I mean. I realise I can’t tell as well as for a standard harp if the string placement is right, and it’s not exactly proper strings either. You understand, I wanted to make sure it’d be doable first before talking to you about it and… Well it is doable, and I’m sure we can find a way for you to craft proper strings…”

Elrond looked at Maglor, wanting to see his reaction at the very unexpected crab-sized lyre that was suddenly trusted at him, before Lindir took his leave hastily.

Maglor looked like he couldn’t believe it. The lyre was made in clear wood, clearly well thought out, but for the strings really.

“We do need better strings but…”

Maglor hugged the instrument to his chest, looking somewhat near tears at the unexpected gift. He had an instrument again. A lyre that he could play for the pleasure of it. How many years has it been? Oh that kind minstrel needed to have a song made for himself.

Maglor stole a corner of a parchment, and started to write using a gift from Elladan and Elrohir who had found the feather of a small bird and crafted it as a pen for him on his second day in the valley.

Elrond was far too amused to stop him. He’d gift Lindir a set of jeweller’s glass so he’d be able to easily read and copy to normal elf size document whatever Maglor would give him.

Minstrels…

Elrond was pretty sure that Maglor would make Lindir cry of emotion there.

At least he knew that they’d get along well.

Elrond was also curious as how Lindir had managed to craft such a tiny an instrument. He would have needed very special tools for that. Oh well, he’d let Maglor investigate when curiosity would strike him.

Later.